Of Fire and Ice, You Drink My Blood
by smylekidd
Summary: A Frerard of the World After Doomsday. What happens when you're already dead and trying to die one more, but someone steps in the way? Incorperates the song, "Love Like Winter" by AFI, but unless you knew the song, you would have no idea.
1. The End of The End

The date is December twenty-second, 8012; the anniversary of the end.

I remember the day of destruction all to clearly. There was fire, flame, and detonation round every bend. You couldn't escape the burning hell that was surrounding the world. People were caught in the red-and-orange lights. There was no water pure enough to cease the fire. There was no mercy, just flame. It purified and burned each of its victims with a sinister pleasure. All hope was lost.

However, where there is fire, there is ice. Soon after the flames engulfed the world in their firey damnation, the ice froze over the ashes, chilling any soul still on their deathbed into a mental coma of insanity. The screams were even more prominent than in the heat. The cold numbed its victims and sent them into hallucinogenic scenarios of happiness soon afterward. At least the temporary survivors would die in an illusion of serenity….

After the flame and frost, an unexpected turn of events occurred. Fourty-one people from across the globe's hearts were still beating. They were still breathing. Perhaps not functioning properly, but alive nonetheless. All fourty-one were dying, however; and quickly at that.

Some being _somewhere_ saved us. They restored us to a state of being _similar_ to living. Not one of us are sure of the events that took place that night, as we all were sent into states of madness from the horrific sights and sounds surrounding us. All we remember is what they told us when we woke up… all except for me.

There is a wide variety of us. We come in all ages and sizes. We have been on this planet for a long time now. Through it all, I wish I had died in the horror of it all. Immortality is not such a gift as it was always dreamt of. I remember when I was young and still alive and would fantasize about becoming a vampire. But I'm told blood is not as fulfilling as it would seem.

You see, when they "recovered" us, our bodies were so disturbed and torn apart that our deaths were inevitable. If our hearts would not give out, we would be driven into mental insanity. The concepts of what we have been turned into are quite complex. Basically, they would determine if our souls were made of fire or ice, as the Recoverer would do on the dead in order to pass them on to the next life. Neither a soul of flame or frost is good or bad in a sense, but rather a reflection of how the person is portrayed. The Recoverer would choose the type, as fire cannot exist without ice and vice versa, and would then create the change.

The ones with a soul of fire would be turned to an immortal being of wit and cunning. They could easily trick one of ice to them in order for a drink of their water. As humorous as it may seem, our immortality was affected by our change. Our bodies of fire would burn on and on, and like a very large candle and a wick, they would melt away to nothing. Our flaming hearts need the cool, crisp water of a soul of ice to blow out the flame frequently so that we do not waste away to nothing.

The ones with a soul of ice were changed to an immortal body of shadow and stealth. These types can stalk prey of flame with ease and catch them to breathe their plasma. Ones of ice must inhale in the breath of their victim to intake the precious immortality. As an elder man, the heart of an ice soul will freeze into paralyzation until death comes soon after. The souls of ice need the plasma to keep their hearts warm and beating.

I have only witnessed three deaths in my time, although many more have occurred. Our brand of immortals cannot reproduce, thus we dwindle down from the original fourty-one slowly and steadily. If either breed, fire or ice, does not feed within their life's time constraint, their helpless body will sent a warning, telling them of the five minutes they have before their systems will shut down forever. The only thing that can save the dying victim is the blood from the other species.

While it may seem a small task, in the process of dying, we loose our precious blood. Our blood is what keeps us alive and is more crucial to keep than the water or plasma we are forced to consume. Many of us have committed suicide from the struggles of our immortal world. It is very hard to make us bleed, but can be done at extreme costs. However, if one wants to be saved, another made of the opposite element must sacrifice half of their blood supply to the other, but there is a very low chance that only half will bleed out. It is not simple to make an incision in our skin, much less control the flow of the crimson liquid contained inside us. Keeping it inside of us is our top priority, as we are only given what was left in our bodies when we officially died, and most of us were injured and wounded already.

My name is Gerard, an immortal with a soul of flame. I keep to myself, as it is better that way. Many times I have tried to end this horrid form of a life I am forced to live; each trial an error. Even as a human, alive and breathing real air and pumping fresh blood, I was a threat to myself and all others that came near me. It was of pure coincidence I survived the disastrous doom on the day life as I knew it came to an end. I was never liked, loved, or even acknowledged.

I spent day after day in this immortal world of hell in a castle that shattered to one million pieces. The ruins comfort me, as I feel they reflect myself and my state of being. Around the piles of pure white marble, statues stand, polished and perfect. It was as if nothing had ever happened. I could see the detail of each eye and lip structure. Each figure was, in my opinion, wearing a look of agony. One was on their knees, looking up to the skies, asking for mercy that would not be granted. Another had their hands covering their face in a matter most beautiful and heart wrenching.

I counted each sculpture, collecting a total of eight. Slowly, I walked around to greet each one, as I did every day. I then sat in the middle of the circle they formed. The inside of the figures appeared to have a ballroom floor. It was elegant and marvelous, and reflected everything it shouldn't- opposed to the world that had crumbled around it.

I sat in the very center and held my knees close to my chest. I didn't want this life anymore. I wanted to be gone. I could feel the burning in my throat. It had been months since I had last fed and I could feel myself slowly melting away to nothingness.

"Warn your warmth to turn away," I sang shakily.

It had been years since I had sang. It was always my escape. Now, I could feel my warmth of flame shying away from my alive, yet dead body. It was pleasing to me, no matter the harsh burns escaping my every limb.

After a few moments of recollecting myself, I stood up and retreated to my makeshift home in the castle. Two small rooms had survived the damage, and I weaseled my way into them. The rooms were bare, except for a sketchbook that I was given as a gift from the Recoverer. I propped elbows on the corner of the empty window, much more like a hole in the wall and stared out into the sky.

Minutes had gone by and everything seemed as normal and terrible as always, until I saw something. It was gliding down from the sky. The unidentified object fluttered its way onto the windowsill. I observed it closely, and realized the pure magic of the item. It was a snowflake. Snow had only fallen once after the Doomsday. I laughed a psychotic and perhaps maniacal laugh. I was sure I was going insane once again, but I rushed out the door into the circle of figures once again and danced for hours as the snow built up high on the ground.

This type of water would not suffice my burning throat, but it was a thrill to experience. In all my years of solitude, I was never so happy before. All was going pleasant and freely. I was actually enjoying my form of life. However, just as there is flame to frost, there is bad to good.

A crisp crunch awakened me from my enjoyment. Someone was near. How had they found me? I wanted to be alone! I stood perfectly still, afraid to make any movements. This life was not as good as I had almost convinced myself to believe. This life is horror, tragedy, sorrow, and death. Here is not where you want to be. I would wish my soul to rest peacefully and in cold death underground. Here is a cold, dark world. This is not a life, this is a hell. Here it is an icy world of broken dreams. Here you can not win, only loose and be eaten alive.

Here it's December, every day.


	2. Dance Away the Pain, The Stings of Past

The stranger approached me, carefully. I examined him closely and found that he was only an ice soul. He appeared a few years younger than me, and scared at that. He saw me ahead of him, and turned away, attempting to run.

"Don't go!" I called out. I do not know what possessed me to invite him back. He looked scarred and wounded. He reminded me a bit of… myself.

The stranger stopped in his tracks and looked back at me. I could see tears forming in his eyes, making them glisten like the fallen winter snow around me.

"You must be hungry?" I asked. He could drain as much plasma as he needed from me. It did not need to fuel my heart any longer.

My guest approached me cautiously, acting weary of the outcome of these decisions. He probably assumed that I wanted to capture him as my prey instead of inviting him to gather nutrients from myself.

"Please, feed from me. I don't want to live here anymore. At this point, it would be a favour," I explained.

He walked up into the circle of statues. Observing his surroundings, he toyed with his fingers. I noticed tiny red marks on each one. I had never seen this before and knew our skin did not scar. They appeared to be just tiny lines engulfing the bottom of each the index, ring, middle, and pinky fingers. The stranger must have seen me looking at them, as he clenched his hands in fists towards the ground to hide them.

"Please," I whispered.

He looked up at me, and then at the ground. Gently, he closed his eyes and I watched as one tiny, simple tear fell from his beautiful hazels. I did not want this being to leave me alone. I felt a strong connection to him, as if he were me. We seemed so alike, yet mysteries of our past selves as well. I felt I had to keep him close; protect him.

I began to hum a song as he turned to walk away. My eyes were squinted closed, yet I was relaxed; my dead body unphased by the icy snow. I let the rhythm of the song take over and recited,

"Press your lips to the sculptures, and surely you'll stay."

He turned back suddenly, and smiled a sad smile. The guest walked up to the figure that I had decided was my favourite, (it was a woman holding her hands up to the heavens and had a countenance of one who appeared to be screaming) and kissed it.

I smiled back, full of sorrow, but full of truth. Then, as if taken over by a familiar hallucinogenic, I began to dance. The idea was mental, but it soothed me. I looked over to see if the guest had joined me, and he had. It went on for hours. All my worry was washed away for those moments, and how I treasured them.

The dancing began to wind to an end, and I collapsed to the elegant flooring of the circle. Shortly after, my guest joined me. Since he would not oblige earlier, I used my hand to gently guide his chin down, opening his mouth. I then opened mine as well and leant in to give him my nutrients. When the session was over, I leant back and closed my eyes.

"Why did you do that?" he asked, a bit worried.

"I don't want my life here anymore. I want you to take it,"

"Why-why not?" he stammered shivering, but not to the effect of the snow.

"I never made it, I only failed. Nobody ever showed a care for me, nor even recognized my existence most of the time. I was given a second chance, and still presented my sad self the loser that I am. Look at me! Starving myself of the essential elements required of my flaming heart and wasting away the time in the solitude of a crumbled castle until I will melt away to the nothingness I feel inside me. As if anyone would care, no one ever loved me,"

"What would you do if I told you that I loved you?" the still stranger spoke in a soft tone, only barely audible even over the silence of the setting.

The reply took me aback. What was I to say to such a quizzical statement. I had not even had the pleasure of finding out the name of this beautiful soul of ice that had so suddenly emerged into my broken life. I did, however, find a connection to him. It was as if we were… joined, in a sense. The two of us were so alike, so vulnerable in this world. We were only looking for someone to save us, despite how much we would like to decline the fact.

"Well, to begin with," I replied after much thought, "I should like to learn your name," To this, I smiled.

"My name is Frank Iero of Ice, and as to you?"

"Gerard Way of Fire,"

"Then what would you do?" he asked, sounding a bit unsure.

"And then, I should like to ask you to dance,"

I walked up and took his hand. There was no music anymore. I could scarcely remember a guitar chord or melody anymore. Dancing was not the same without the harmonious sounds that would be created from bedroom speakers, marching bands, rock concerts, or church choirs. However, one song had always stuck with me. Subconsciously, once again, I began to hum the familiar tune.

Back-and-forth we would take turns leading. Frank would gather the courage and then back down again. This repeated several times throughout the dance. I gathered the familiar feeling that I might be going mad. Such activities done on a dying body in the dead of a winter's snow mustn't be good for the mind.

The feeling was as if I was drunk, or possibly on a hallucinogenic. Never before had I felt so… alive. The majority of my life I had spent as a figure of death itself: alone, unloved, and just dead inside. It was like the smallest huff of this new drug had sent me into a vision of such great majesty. The feeling was like no other I had experienced before.

"What makes you so… brilliant?" I inquired between twirls.

Frank stopped dancing and sat down beside one of the statues. I soon followed suit, waiting rather impatiently for his reply.

"For of sugar and ice, I am made," he spoke, seemingly of wisdom, but at the same time lighthearted and airy.

"And what could make you love such a flame as myself?"

"Without you, most and quite literally, I would perish. It's as if a connection has pulled me to you. I don't want to leave," he whispered. His words bounced from the vacant walls of the now-deceased castle

"My dearest Frank, if you were to leave, I would surely end it now."


	3. Look, Cry, and Scream, Darling

This was all so new to me; this feeling of friendship. It was only a day we had become introduced, and now my life was dependant on the survival of my guest. Frank was, in complete honesty, my reason of being. I had always wondered why I had held on for all those years. Surely I could have ended it sooner, but I never did. Was it because I knew Frank would come one day? I could not shake the feeling of something bigger than life itself looming in the atmosphere.

Frank and I had been huddled together on the ballroom floor, laying in front of one of the marble figures. It had been a few hours, and Frank had fallen asleep on my side. I was comforted by his slow breathing, and felt slight chills burn my body of fire every once in a while. The experience was relaxing and all completely new. There was silence around us, I could detect no other sounds in the air. In an abrupt moment, the quietness of it all was interrupted by Frank screaming sounds of bloody murder in his dreams.

"It's in the blood, it's in the blood!" he yelled wildly. His arms held his ears closed tightly and his face was turning crimson and hot for an ice soul. Wild tears streamed down his face and he looked a bit rabid, moving around viciously while trying to escape whatever vivid images he was visualizing.

"Frank! Please, do wake up! Frank!" I called to him. My methods were to no prevail. I tried my best to nudge and yell at him to escape from his nightmare. This pain that was taking over Frank was too much to bear. I had never felt this kind of affection towards anyone. My mind was busily smashing together ideas as to why I felt this way. It was overwhelming attempting to wake Frank up and piece together a mystery of great depths all at one time.

It finally clicked inside my head. I had never lost faith in the supernatural. I was, of course, one myself now, I suppose. However, such a force is only created by one of unrealistic measures. The concept of love was always so dreadful to me. Yet, I always felt the quizzical need to stay awake. I now realized why I had remained throughout all those years.

I met my love before I was born.

As if on cue, Frank screamed with agonizing pain, "He wanted love! I taste of blood!"

There was nothing I could do. Frank was unreachable. I could not help him out of his terrors, and it was killing me slowly. I began to scream as well. The sounds escaped my mouth bitterly and harsh. My throat was aching and tasted like venom. It was all that I could do not to die right there and then.

As if there was a brand of poison in my throat, I felt myself slowly slip away. It was soft and comfortable, unlike life and suffering. All I could think about, when my brain would allow me to process a memory, was Frank. I knew I needed to stay for him, and I was fighting the sense of gravity that was pulling me away.

Quite furiously, I was thrust into a familiar scene, but one that I could never remember. It was a glowing snow-white colour in every direction, and I could not see anything. However, the blindness began to fade and before me I saw to figures. They were both male; one with long, black, raven hair and messy eyeliner. The other had short, shiny hair with a black fringe hanging over one eye in a matter, I had to admit, most attractively.

The boy with long, black hair was staring at his feet intently, and I noticed a blush spread widely across his cheeks. I could not help but wonder why he was acting this way. The other boy came up to him, perhaps also curious, and kissed him slowly on the cheek.

The first was shocked. He looked to the other boy in a confused manor. In return, he smiled warmly and gently. It was then that I realized that these were the ghosts of Frank and I before we had been born. I gasped at this, then covered my mouth. It was soon after that I realized I was practically invisible to them.

I looked back at us. Frank was holding me close, and I was crying into his tee shirt. Suddenly, I screamed and dropped to the floor on my knees. I was streaming tears and yelling to my full capacity. Frank knelt down beside me and put his hand over my heart, looking frantically worried all the while.

I finally had the opportunity to observe Frank's face, but what I saw was puzzling. He looked very weak. His complexion was a shade of pale that I had never seen before. Gradually he was turning translucent. Frank showed no signs of agony, but I could read it in his face. All the life appeared to be draining from him.

I, as in my ghost, reached out and held Frank's face tightly. I showed nothing but pure pain and love on my face. Frank seemed to think something was wrong from the look in my eyes and shook his head slowly.

I kissed him hard and passionately, moving my lips with him and opening my mouth. Using the cunning skills I had been given, I tricked Frank into biting my lower lip with extreme momentum, causing him to create an accidental gash. He tried to back away, but I held him close to me and pressed my mouth against his lips. Giving him no choice, he bit my lip and drank my warmth from years before.

The figures began to deteriorate and melt away before my eyes. I felt darkness and black take over my body and mind. Everything was quiet and my senses were useless. I was taken into a place of pure blankness. I could not comprehend anything around me.

I could not use my mind. It was a state of uselessness that was driving me mad. The pressure was boiling inside me, but I could not scream. I could not make a fist, nor could I clench my teeth or shed a single tear. My emotions were destroying me, but I could not do a single thing. It felt as if I were back in the circle of figures desperately attempting to wake Frank up.

Just as easily as I had slipped in, I had slipped away into darkness once more.


	4. Would You Stay Sweetly Numb?

When I awoke, I found myself huddled in the shadow of my castle. Frank was beside me looking quite uneasy. I attempted to ask him what was the matter, but he simply waved my concern away with a shake of his head.

"She is here," he choked out, barely loud enough for my ears to detect.

"Who? Who is here?" I demanded.

My question was replied with the motion of Frank's finger directing my gaze straight ahead. It was then when I saw her. She was almost translucent and draped with icy pearls. Her complexion was snow-white. Not even her cheeks neared a shade of rose. The strands of hair that adorned her head grew white with stray pieces of blue that looked as though she had grown a bit cold. Diamond earrings hung from her lobes and a stone shaped as a snowflake rested on her chest.

The creature standing in the center of the ballroom was quite a sight. She was nothing less than beautiful. Her clothes spoke of regal approaches, flashing silver strands of thread into my eyes. Snowflakes were stitched onto her pure white dress and the ruffles at the bottom were given a slight hue of sky blue. Her arms were long, almost un-humanly long, but who was I to judge what was considered "human"? I did, however, pick out the peculiar quirk that identified her lack of legs and feet. She simply glided along instead of walking.

"Come out, come out!" she cooed. When I heard her voice, I was in a trance. It was a soothing sound, like honey falling from a fountain or rose petals gliding to the floor. Each syllable captivated me.

"You can't keep hiding, silly boy! You have to come out some time!" she called once more.

I watched as she blew onto a black rose that was intertwined in her nearly non-existent hands. The petals and thorns froze instantly from the soft, beautiful icy glaze that was escaping from her lips.

"She exhales vanilla lace," I whispered to myself.

"Gerard, no!" Frank called to me.

It was too late. I was already standing and walking towards her. I had never taken a fancy to women before, but this figure was peculiar. She seemed a bit manipulative, but my mind was not focusing properly. It was almost as if I were in a trance.

"I barley dreamt her yesterday!" Frank yelled to me once more.

It was then when everything clicked. This woman was not a good woman; if one at all. This was the being that made Frank so terrified in his dreams. However, no matter how hard I tried, my feet would not stop moving closer to her. She was beckoning me with a force beyond my control. Soon enough I had approached her and she whispered into my ear in a seductive and growling tone.

"Read the lines in the mirror, love."

I had heard her, but I couldn't think properly. She was messing with my head. I could feel her soul inside of my mind, calling my closer to her. She bit my neck and wrestled her hands through my hair. There was not a thing that I could do about it, however. I was stuck there, being used as a toy by this white demon. And a demon she precisely was.

For, this woman was none other than the Queen of Ice. She was feared, her name is not dare spoken of. In all my years of existence I had never once seen her and began to believe of her as a myth. Yet here she is kissing my face and pressing her hands to my chest. My body wants to escape her frozen grasp, but my mind will not allow it. It will only focus on the marks on my cheeks created through the lipstick trace.

I began to give up, to allow myself to her. But then I thought of a certain black-haired boy. Frank. My love. Soon the anger of the fire inside my restored soul caught fire. I was furious and could feel my skin begin to grow hot. I knew how to hold her off, no matter how heartbroken Frank would be, but this was for him. He needed to be safe and protected. The Queen could destroy his heart, as they are both of Ice.

Closing my eyes for the slightest hint of courage, I reached out and pulled her face closer to mine. Without hesitation my lips were crushed onto hers at speed much to rapid for pleasure. I kissed her and bit her lip until she granted me exactly what I wanted; entrance into her cold and bitter mouth. It was then when I connected our tongues and she flew backwards onto the ballroom flooring.

Being an immortal for a while, you come to learn quite a few survival tricks. At some point in my unpleasant and dreary existence I had come to learn that when one of our kind comes to have strong emotions, our bodies either heat up or freeze rapidly, depending on your kind. As the Queen of Ice, her evil self, her powers were used to manipulate my mind; she felt nothing. However, I felt strong hate towards her, and strong love for Frank. Immediately my body grew hotter and hotter by the second. Another tip for the immortal life of a Fire or an Ice is that the tongue is the first to heat or freeze. This, I believe, should help explain the complicated series of events that have taken place.

I gave a quick glance towards Frank, whom I discovered was crying in a far corner of the grounds I called home. I ran to him and took his hand. His glassy eyes peered up at me with confusion and dismay. Oh, how I wanted to kiss him right then and there, but this wasn't the time nor the place. We only had moments before she would recover and I planned to use that time to escape. So without speaking, I pulled Frank from the ground, kissed his hair, and took off running with him, leaving everything I once knew and the place that I had lived for so long behind me; never to return.

We had run quite far and the night had grown black. I could not be sure of our exact location, but I did know that it was far from home. I did not have any possessions anyways, except for my artwork. Unfortunately, I could not spare a second to retrieve it from its hiding place. Perhaps I would be able to reclaim it one day.

With every step I took I felt more and more distant. Frank seemed to be growing a bit drowsy, as well. We had followed a made-up pathway to what seemed like a forest. The trees were bare and frozen. The lake had been turned into ice and showed no sign of life around it except for a few snowy owls. Snowfall covered the ground and chilled my feet with every step. We would have to make home of this area for the night, for there was nowhere else to go.

My heart did pick up, however, smiling to itself that Frank would feel comfortable here. He was an Ice and grew particularly fond of the cold. If Frank was happy, then I was happy as well. After all, what was one night in the snow? I could manage and I would manage.

Once I shared the news that we would be camping in this forest of Ice for the night, Frank simply nodded and kept to himself. He had not spoken any words at all since the Queen of Ice and come to my home. In fact, he had seemed to be in his own world, hardly acknowledging what was happening above and around him. I grew to be extremely concerned about him.

I had made up beds out of branches and fallen leaves when I came across them. I used my Flame to bind them together, but laid Frank's out to chill so that it would be to his liking. It was late into the night; midnight, I assumed. However, I was still discouraged that Frank would not speak to me. I found myself unable to think properly, only focusing on the fact that I needed to find out what was wrong as soon as possible. So we curled up in our beds to rest, I allowed my thoughts to take a hold of me and lead my body towards Frank's makeshift sleeping area.

"Frankie," I breathed, hoping that he would respond to me. I crossed my fingers and bit my lip for good luck.

It was not a complete response that I received in return. Instead, Frank simply turned to look at me, his eyes glossy and disenchanted. I noticed with wet eyelashes gleaming off of the moonlight glow and the soft colours of the snow. I allowed my face to move closer to his, giving him comfort.

I said, "It seems you're somewhere far away," to his face.

"Gerard, I love you." He whispered.

"I love you with every Flame of my soul. I would ride to Hell and back and stretch the skies up to Heaven. I never want to be without you. I solemnly swear."

He allowed a tear to escape from his soft eyes and spoke, "Then why? Why her?"

I allowed a quiet laugh to escape from my lips and gazed into his hazels oceans of eyes, wrapping a ribbon of promise around my next words. "To protect you, my sweet. I stunned her, but not for long. By the dawning of tomorrow's morning, she will be after us again. I fear that you are in danger, precious. I need to get you out of here as soon as you are rested." With my final sentence, I kissed his hair.

"But afterwards? You cannot possibly protect me from this for-ever! She will kill you, Gerard! You will die! She lives for-ever, and will catch you sooner or later. We cannot keep running, we will loose! What will become of us?" he cried. I could feel the pain and concern in his voice, but only gave him a sad smile. I knew of this fate, of course I did. I had a plan, as well. But for now, I gave his a simple phrase to fall into sleep with.

"Stay sweetly numb, my love."


End file.
